I was excited about the prospects of going to the mountain temple with Duke. But having to be at Duke’s house at 4 am sharp—well, that might not be so easy. A warm, snugly bed is not an easy thing to leave behind. My need of adventure, however, was now sufficiently aroused. So, too, was my need to lift the veil of inscrutable Zen. The more I read Suzuki’s Essays In Zen Buddhism the more my ignorance made up its mind to reform itself which meant—and I knew it—that I would probably have to learn Zen the hard way. To be honest, if it were my way (i.e., the easy way), I would prefer to cross the sea of samsara in a luxury liner.
My two alarm clocks went off. Not too long after that, I fired up the VW at the ungodly hour of 3:30 am after I had thrown my rucksack onto the backseat. (I tried to pack everything I thought I would need in my rucksack for the weekend adventure which wasn’t much.) Past sleeping America, my green, sputtering VW lumbered its way in the dark like a large mechanical Armadillo. My mind was dreaming about Zen as I clutched the gray steering wheel.
After I turned the corner, I saw Marty the truck, this time with wooden side panels on it—and there was Duke wearing a pork pie hat with a Levi jacket over an Hawaiian shirt loading up Marty. That image of him standing there was the first blow to my preconceptions of a Zen priest.
I parked just behind Marty; got my rucksack and went over to where Duke was. “Good morning Duke.”
“Hey kid. Glad to se ya made it. Marty is raring to go. I’ve already loaded the things I usually take up to the mountain temple in the back. I put in a few extra blankets in, just in case. So get in the truck and let’s see that double clutching of yours!” Duke just grinned.
Duke’s eyes were different—not like with most people who seemed to be either staring off into space or day dreaming. There was an unwonted brightness about his eyes. It is like he could see through you and the world. That is the best way I could describe the feeling I had.
Marty was a great old truck to drive. It was exactly like my uncle’s truck. And it went about as fast which was about forty miles an hour. In fact, I decided to drive Marty no more than thirty-five miles an hour. I have always had a gut feeling about cars and trucks. They are like living creatures. Marty was used to going slow. That was his habit.
Duke didn’t have to say much as we drove towards Coppertown. I already knew the way. I had been to it several times already. Then about two hours later, Duke told me to watch out for this side road on the right that would be coming up in a quarter mile. Yep, there it was. I turned Marty to the right.
“Now go down this road for about an eighth of a mile,” Duke instructed. “You’ll see a metal gate with a big chain and lots of locks on it. That is the road that will take us to the mountain temple.”
I finally saw the gate. I stopped Marty just in front of it; put it in neutral, then set the hand brake. Duke jumped out and had the gate open before I could blink! As I drove through, he stood there, holding the gate open, just grinning at me in that pork pie hat of his. I had to smile.
Duke re-locked the gate then jumped back into the truck. “We have about seven more miles to drive on the dirt road. Then we’ll be there.”
I could see that they did a lot of copper mining in this area. It must have been during World War II when they needed so much copper. We drove past one abandoned old copper mine that was on the right about a quarter mile away. This whole area was mainly rolling hills with lots of oak trees and small streams. I imagined that the mountain temple was probably Japanese looking; set somewhere in a thickly wooded area of old oak trees.
“Right over there—that’s the road to the temple,” said Duke.
I followed the rain rutted dirt road up a hill. I couldn’t see the temple yet. But my excitement grew. My heart was pounding. A real Zen temple. I couldn’t wait to see it. Then to my amazement, I didn’t see any temple once I got to the top of the hill! I only saw a weather beaten shack of sorts with a small wooden, screened in, front porch with stone stairs. I guess it served as a kitchen at one time for the miners because not a hundred feet from it was an abandoned copper mine. As I drove Marty closer to the shack I could see that it was kept up. The roof was metal. The windows were in good shape. There was a new shiny, chimney pipe coming out the side of the shack. At the side of the front door, painted on a pine board in black brush strokes were some Chinese characters. I assume they read, “Mountain Temple”.
“Well, how do you like it kid? One of my old students gave me the land.”
“Ah, it looks great,” I replied, trying to mask my disappointment at not seeing a real Zen temple.
“I love this area. The collective mind of the herd doesn’t often visit here. As you can see, it offers nothing beautiful to look at or to inspire like the ocean coast or the forest. Just coyotes, rabbits, skunks, hawks, owls, bats, and rattlesnakes—and Buddhists inhabit this land. Oh, that reminds me. We need some water. See that small stone building over there?”
“Yes, I see it.”
“That is the spring house. There are two buckets inside. Get us some water and watch out for the rattlesnakes. Be aware!”
Rattlesnakes? I was not ready for rattlesnakes. Sure as heck I would be aware. I would keep my eyes double peeled. I would be the all seeing eye on the back of the dollar bill! Courageously, I walked over to the spring house and went inside. I carefully lifted up the round metal cover that was over the well to keep the mice out. I cleaned the buckets out then filled them up spring water. Lucky me—no rattlesnakes.
I walked back to the temple carrying the two buckets filled with water. They weren’t light. Just then Duke walked down the stone steps and took one of the buckets. I followed him into the temple to the kitchen area. Duke showed me where to put the bucket. The kitchen had a gas cooking stove; one of those old ones with the oven on the side so you didn’t have to bend over. I liked those kind of stoves. There was an old Ward’s icebox, too, by the backdoor, but no ice was to be had.
We finally got the temple into shipshape. The two kerosene lanterns were filled; their wicks trimmed and their glass chimneys were spotless. Duke had unpacking down to a science. Nothing escaped his attention or should I say, his compassion. Then he took a large, golden Buddha statue out of a black bag and put it on the shrine in the place of honor. For some odd reason the golden Buddha made the place come alive. I felt happy.
Duke proved to be a great cook. I had no idea what I ate. But I knew some of it was rice and it was good. I never knew you could do so much with rice and a few vegetables. I wasn’t good with the chopsticks but I soon learned, prompted by my hunger. Then during the course of the meal everything became dead quiet. I had never felt silence like this. I could hear my ears buzzing it was so quiet.
Duke having put down his bowl said with a gentle smile, “Do you think I am in this body that is sitting in front of you?”
I didn’t know what to say. He had asked the same question before. I was dumbstruck. I looked at him. He seemed to have his locus of control inside of him. Don’t we all?
Then before I could speak Duke said, “It is an interesting question, one that hits you right between the eyes. So what do you think attachment really means as regards me in my body?”
I braced myself up, then said something that even amazed me which usually never happens. I answered, “Attachment is about clinging to this body so that I think it’s really me.”
Duke laughed clapping his hands together. “That’s what I like to hear,” he said after which he took a sip of tea then got down to brass tacks. “What else could attachment be from the Buddha’s exalted perspective except—as you put it—clinging to this body as if it were really me? Take my word for it, we cling to this body terrified to let it go which makes us terrified of death. Then almost scared shitless by this terror, we often commit great evils. We bring everything to ruin because of it. So how do we give up this clinging?
Again, Duke put the spotlight on me with his question. I got lucky again but I don’t know how. I said almost in a questioning way, “We have to see something positive which isn’t involved in birth and death, right?”
“Yes!” exclaimed Duke. “That is the answer to the sixty-four dollar question—we have to see the positive undying. And we can really see it if we can get into the habit of looking for the positive like a gold miner looking for a vein of gold. If you are not this committed you’ll eventually fall prey to a love of sensory objects, anger, mental laziness, depression, and heavy doubt. All these just tie us down even more to the body.”
In what followed, I became aware of a magnetic like current that covered my body from head to toe. It was sublime—not strong, however, but definitely there. Despite that it was still morning, Duke had a rainbow aura around him as I had seen before in the Zendo at his temple. It was visibly there. Something was happening I couldn’t explain. I had no idea how it was being caused. I made a point to remember that I was physically affected.
Just as the current had suddenly come—the current subsided. Then Duke got up from the table and started to pile the bowls up. We ended up washing the bowls and chopsticks with tea water. While I was helping with the bowls I was starting to become blissful for some reason that I couldn’t explain. I was so relaxed I could have easily drooled!
Duke looked at me and just laughed. “Hey kid, you look drunk. Are you drinking that Buddha juice again?”
I just smiled like an idiot. What could I say? I was so relaxed. But it was not unnoticed by me that the more I was around Duke the more I seemed to be drinking this mysterious Buddha juice as he called it. Evidently, he could influence how I felt at a psychic level. For some inexplicable reason I imagined that when the Buddha was alive people who came up to meet him felt as I did. I can see why Buddhism became so popular. The Buddha was not just any teacher—one of many in ancient India—he made people blissful. He pushed back their suffering.
Duke then went into the Zendo, as he called it, where the Buddha statue was. What struck me most about it was the quietness and the smell of sage grass coming in on a slight breeze from the outside.
“Sit over there on the pillow,” he said pointing to what look like a rice bag stuffed with something other than rice.
I sat on the rice bag pillow. It was comfortable. I finally learned how to cross my legs so my back the next day wouldn’t be killing me. Then Duke opened the windows more. The sound of the gentle breeze coming in through the screened windows had a very soothing effect on me. Although I quickly inventoried the Zendo, I remained more struck by the sublime fragrance of the sage.
Still wearing his pork pie hat, Duke sat on a stuffed rice bag like a yogi. He sat next to the shine, itself, which as I looked at it more, was nicely crafted from old timbers which he must have found around the abandoned copper mines. He then opened a book, looked at it for a few minutes, then put it down after which he closed his eyes. I wasn’t sure why he did this. I just went along with the program. Then I began to feel a gentle sort of magnetic current in my body. It seemed to make my body blissful. At first I tried to resist it but then it got stronger and stronger. In some mysterious way, Duke was doing this. This is the only thing I could think of.
After some time, Duke clapped his hands together. I don’t know how long we sat in the Zendo. It sure wasn’t a painful exercise or experience—not as painful as when I tried to sit crosslegged on my own. Duke, my gut feelings told me was like a Buddha radio station always transmitting blissfulness to anyone interested.
“Well Denis that about does our early morning mind gathering session. I hope you’re in shape for a good walk. I’ll show you around the place.”
I smiled. “Oh, I’m in pretty good shape. I like your mountain temple. It’s really peaceful up here.”
“Yeah,” said Duke, “this place vacuums out your brain.” He laughed afterwards.
Then, I laughed. Duke was right. It’s true I thought to myself. I seemed not to have a care in the world at the moment. I was looking forward to our walk in Duke’s huge Hoover vacuum cleaner world.